Mr. Micawber was quite overcome by these friendly words, and by finding Mr. Dick’s hand again within his own. “It has been my lot,” he observed, “to meet, in the diversified panorama of human existence, with an occasional oasis, but never with one so green, so gushing, as the present!”
At another time I should have been amused by this; but I felt that we were all constrained and uneasy, and I watched Mr. Micawber so anxiously, in his vacillations between an evident disposition to reveal something, and a counter-disposition to reveal nothing, that I was in a perfect fever. Traddles, sitting on the edge of his chair, with his eyes wide open, and his hair more emphatically erect than ever, stared by turns at the ground and at Mr. Micawber, without so much as attempting to put in a word. My aunt, though I saw that her shrewdest observation was concentrated on her new guest, had more useful possession of her wits than either of us; for she held him in conversation, and made it necessary for him to talk, whether he liked it or not.
“You are a very old friend of my nephew’s, Mr. Micawber,” said my aunt. “I wish I had had the pleasure of seeing you before.”
“Madam,” returned Mr. Micawber, “I wish I had had the honour of knowing you at an earlier period. I was not always the wreck you at present behold.”
“I hope Mrs. Micawber and your family are well, sir,” said my aunt.
Mr. Micawber inclined his head. “They are as well, ma’am,” he desperately observed after a pause, “as aliens and outcasts can ever hope to be.”
“Lord bless you, sir!” exclaimed my aunt, in her abrupt way. “What are you talking about?”